Silent Knight-Part Two
by JadziaVu
Summary: The Joker reaches out to an old friend in an attempt to find his missing Clown Princess. (A Harley/Joker Fanfic)
1. Taming the Rabid Shrew

**Harley Quinn: Kristen Bell**

**The Joker: Heath Ledger**

**Bruce Wayne/Batman: Christian Bale**

**Alfred Pennyworth: Michael Cane**

**Tim Drake/Robin: Liam Aiken**

**Dick Grayson/Nightwing: ****Milo Ventimiglia**

"Errraaagh!"

The bowl broke against the metal door on the opposite side and shattered, no doubt spraying hot porridge across the walls and floor. Alfred turned to Bruce who was adjusting his armored suit, preparing to enter the room disguised as The Batman for their third attempt at a home-made therapeutic session.

"I am _not_ cleanin' that up", the butler insisted and turned to disappear down the hall.

Bruce shook his head with a sigh and continued to ensure that each piece of armor plated material was safely bound to his body. Harley Quinn was a small woman, but he had already made the mistake of underestimating her strength and power in the past. He had the scars to prove it.

"She sure does have a vendetta for you", a male voice chimed from behind him.

He turned to find his former protégé, Dick Grayson, walking up the opposite end of the hall, smug grin etched on his face.

"She still not eating?" he asked.

Bruce shook his head.

"I've tried to tell you. You can't fix her."

"Maybe so, but at least after a few weeks of this, I can go down saying I tried", the Knight retorted in a half-hearted tone of desperation.

"Then what?"

The Batman unlocked the bolts, preparing to enter the cage with the wild animal he had kept prisoner for nearly three days.

"Arkham."

He pushed the door quickly open and stepped inside, knowing that she would be waiting for him.

"He'll just break her out!", he heard Dick yell from the other side as the door slammed shut and the locks slid back into their bolts.

**['Psychobabble' by Frou Frou]**

Harley's short frame was already on top of him, biting and clawing with frantic screams as she attempted to drag him to the floor with her. If she had been foaming at the mouth, it would not have surprised him in the least. He blocked her with his forearms, grabbing at her wrists to subdue her, boots slipping in the mucky pool of broken glass and wasted breakfast.

"Uuuuugggh! I'll kill you!" she shouted hoarsely.

He felt his patience give and shoved her backward onto the single mattress which lay on the hardwood floor, "Calm down!"

She glared up at him, white and black paint still smudged on her face from three nights ago. He had offered to allow her to shower, but she refused his hospitality. She hadn't eaten, bathed, slept, or quit screaming for nearly the entire three days. He was exhausted. She climbed up to her usual post in front of the barred window and shook at the sturdy barrier.

"JOKER! JOKER!", her screams were cracked and painful sounding by this point.

"He can't hear you, Harleen, and he isn't coming. Sit down."

She planted her feet into the wall on either side of the window, pressing through her heels with all her might, but the bars wouldn't budge.

"JOKER!"

All of this was pointless. It had been the exact same routine for days now and he had gotten nowhere with her. He began to curse himself for believing even for a second that he could untangle the mangled mess that was now her permanent mental state, and perhaps, she preferred it that way.

"JOKER!"

Without thinking, he grabbed her by the arms and yanked her down, throwing her back onto the mattress with a force that knocked the air from her as he pinned her beneath his heavy weight. She gasped for air with raspy breaths and struggled beneath him.

"Get off me!"

Her efforts were much less powerful than was her full capacity and he could tell she was finally wearing down.

"Harleen, look at me. Harleen Francis Quinzel, I'm talking to you."

She growled with a thrash and her jaws clacked as she attempted to snap at his face.

"Harley! Harley Quinn-Napier! HARLEY QUINN-NAPIER!" she argued, "JOKER!"

Her movements were weakening and he could feel her limbs begin to shake with fatigue. She was close to the point of hyperventilation when she finally relaxed her muscles and laid her head back, closing her eyes to gasp for air.

"Get off me", she repeated, her words barely audible through the hoarse cracking of her damaged vocals.

Reluctantly, he slowly obliged with her request and slid aside so sit up on the edge of the mattress, arms at the ready should she try to attack again. She did not, however. Instead, she lay there for a long while, catching her breathe while the beads of sweat trickled down her pale features.

"Why", she began after a long pause, "Why can't you just leave us alone?"

"The Joker deserves nothing better than a padded cell for the rest of his life, but you, you deserve a second chance. One that he stole from you when he took advantage of your condition, Harleen."

She opened her eyes with a scoff and sat up quickly, making him flinch, "Not him! US!", she slapped a hand to her head, "Us-us-us!" She smacked her palm to the side of her head with each word, "He _took_ nothing, he _did_ nothing. Don't you get it? We are _happy_ with him you stupid ass!"

She was breathing heavily again, reddened eyes strained and tired in their fury.

"Let Harleen tell me that and I _might _believe you."

"Ugh, for fuck's sake, Bats!"

She flopped back onto the mattress and covered her eyes with the inside crease of her elbow. Batman shifted his weight and found a comfortable spot leaning back against the wood paneling of the wall behind him.

"I only want to talk to her, Harley", he mentioned, "To hear her side of things. The last time I spoke to her in Arkham, she seemed less than pleased with her current predicament."

Harley sighed, "She doesn't know what she wants."

"And you do?"

Removing her arm again, she looked over at him with exhaustion in her expression, "If it weren't for me, she'd probably have slit her wrists in the bathtub by now. You have no idea how pathetic our meaningless life was before Joker stepped into it. He _saved_ us. Can't you see that?"

"Like I said, just let me hear it from her."

"You really think if she wanted to speak to you that I could stop her?" She sat up again, arms spread wide to emphasize her point, "I'm not the disease, Bats, I'm the _cure_! I didn't take over, she _gave in_!"

"And Dr. Quinzel?"

She rolled her eyes, "That bitch is just a residual tumor. Harleen only created her because she couldn't deal with the psychos on her own. She was too fragile. Too weak. You think you're trying to help her, but your fucking with shit you know nothing about! You can't get rid of us, Bats, we're all a part of the same existence. We thrive together. The best you could accomplish is shoving us into the depth of her subconscious, leaving her behind as an empty dribbling void just like they did at Arkham. If we disappear, she may still survive, but she won't be alive. You'll have to kill all three of us if you want to fix the problem."

Bruce could feel his heart drop into his stomach. As much as he hated to believe her, her words felt like the sincere truth, which meant he would never be able to help her. She was lost.

"And why do you hate me?", he asked after a moment.

She smirked, "You're competition."

He was confused, "Competition?"

She averted her eyes and stared at the ceiling solemnly, "For his attention. I'm his wife, his property. I belong to him, but he belongs to you. Everything we do, everything we plan for, everything we talk about…is _you_."

"JOEY!"

The henchman jumped in his seat in the foyer, dropping his newspaper to the floor. He leaped up and started for the Cigar Lounge where the gruff voice of The Joker had just called for him.

"Yes, Sir!"

He rounded the corner to find his boss fussing over Harley's computer, clicking the mouse frantically across the screens of the three monitors, and slapping the keys on the keyboard at random.

"Help me work this confounded piece of shit!", he demanded angrily.

"Uh, sure boss."

Joey wasn't sure what he could do to help, but admitting his limits with technology might earn him a knife in the gut, so he felt it best to comply. Taking a seat in front of the glowing screens, he attempted to look as though he was confident in his abilities.

"What can I do for ya?"

"Find Harley!"

Joey's heart stopped in his chest, "Uh, sure…sure boss, lemme see what I can do…"

The sweat was immediately beginning to form in pebbles on his tan skin and his hands were shaking uncontrollably over the mouse and keyboard. He had not the first clue as to how he would begin looking for The Joker's lost needle in the middle of the giant necrotic hay stack that was Gotham City, especially not on a computer. The angry clown was standing close over his shoulder, exacerbating his aching nerves, then suddenly he had what he hoped would be a life-saving epiphany.

"Hey, Boss, Mr. Tetch is real good with all them little mind control gadgets and stuff, yeah? Maybe he can help us make somethin' ta make The Bat talk, tell us where he's got 'er hidden", Joey suggested in desperate hope.

The Joker straightened up with a thoughtful expression, "The Hatter does owe me a favor…"

The henchman sighed in quiet relief.

"Joey, get the car ready."

"Yes, Sir!"


	2. Imaginary Friends

**Okay, can I admit something to ya'll?**

**Ahem, here goes…Christian Bale is my least favorite Batman/Bruce Wayne of all time…*ducks at the projectile labeled 'Blasphemy' flying toward my head***

**Wait! Hear me out! Keep in mind, guys, I grew up circa Tim Burton's old Batman movies. You know, the ones with Jack Nicholson as The Joker? Which incidentally gave birth to the Animated Series which I own in its entirety and grew up watching every Saturday mornings as a kid. So you see, Kevin Conroy is, was, and always will be my Batman! I'm sorry, but Christian just wasn't doing it for me. Of all the AMAZING cast members that Nolan picked for his movies, I feel Chris was his only mistake. **

**SO! My point is, when I hear Batman talking to Harley in this (and all my other stories), I hear the iconic voice of Kevin Conroy in my head. Not Chris' gravelly gargling. Give it a try, trust me, it makes for a better read.**

**There, I said it.**

**Somebody had to.**

**Also, SORRY it took so long to update. I have been in the middle of moving back home to good 'ol TEXAS!**

**Jervis Tetch/The Hatter: Martin Short**

"Glad to see you're eating again."

Harley raised her eyes with a glower, directed at the dark figure who watched her consume her breakfast from the corner. They would allow her to have utensils, but not without supervision. She opened her jaw wide and lifted her chin so he could get a clear visual of the half-chewed morsels floating around her tongue. His expression was stoic. She smirked and returned to her meal, the first one in four days.

"How about a shower next?", he addressed her again from his post.

"Blah blah blah", she retorted with a full mouth, "You trying to tell me I smell, Bats?"

"Terribly."

She glanced back up at him with another malignant sneer, loading her plastic spoon like a catapult and flicking a fluffy pile of eggs in his direction. He didn't move from his position; armored body leaning nonchalantly against the corner walls, arms folding in his chest. Satisfied that she had eaten her fill, Harley tossed the paper plate aside, leftovers sloshing over the edge onto the hardwood floor.

"Damnit, I bored!" she groaned, falling to her side to roll onto her back and stare at the ceiling, "Can't I at least have a book or something?"

"Not until you decide to be more compliant."

She rolled to her side and propped her head upon her hand, elbow resting in the mattress, "Where exactly did you get your psychiatry degree, _Dr. Dork_? And what gives you the right to keep me here? Falling a little outside your moral code aren't you?"

"Desperate times…"

She sighed and collapsed onto her back again, "Blah blah blah. God, you're pathetic, you really are."

"How's that, Dr. Quinzel?"

Her head shot toward him, "Don't call me that!"

He suppressed the smirk hiding in the corners of his mouth as she sat up and crossed her legs beneath her.

"You think I don't know what you're trying to do? What all this is about?" she began darkly. "You can't save yourself vicariously through me, Bats. Trust me, I made the same mistake once."

He shifted his weight, "I'm not trying to save myself, Harley, I'm trying to save _you_."

"Bullshit!", she spat quickly, "You were compelled to do this for the same selfish reasons I was. Tell me, Doc, how _did_ your parents die?"

His heart ceased to operate for a moment.

"That's how all this usually starts, you see", she continued and he relaxed upon realizing she was simply making a generalization. "It's always the parents. I killed mine, ya know."

He nodded. Her expression was cold and proud at the thought of her gruesome accomplishment.

"Can't cope with Mommy and Daddy's passing, probably due to some tragic murder, and you blame yourself. Am I right?"

He didn't move.

"So, you spend your nights replaying the old film, attempting to change the ending by rescuing those in need. And me, well, that's just too obvious."She studied him for a moment before continuing in her taunting tone, "I'm you. Aren't I…_Bruce_?"

Joey pulled the black Cadillac up the drive toward the abandoned warehouse building ahead and placed it quickly into park as they reached the front doors. He exited the running vehicle and opened the back passenger side door for his boss who stepped out into the bitter cold, his warm breaths fogging the air. Their host was expecting them and stepped out to greet his guests with a maniacal smile beneath the brim of his oversized top hat.

"My dear old friend", the man exclaimed with an outstretched hand, "So nice of you to visit. Alice can't join us, I'm afraid. She's busy picking daisies to make a chain fit for a crown."

The Joker shook the man's thin hand with a raised eyebrow and an amused grin, exchanging a quick glance with Joey. The Hatter was a brilliant man, but sadly, very out of touch with reality. The remarkably intelligent hermit spent most of his days locked inside his large warehouse, engineering ingenious devices between imaginary tea parties with his many 'friends'. In all these years The Joker had never met a single one, and it was difficult to believe that Alice, whoever she was, would be frolicking through the thick snowy wood surrounding the old building in search of daisies in the dead of winter. Still, the crazed inventor had proven to be a valuable ally over the years.

"Tetch, how the hell are ya?"

"Oh can't complain, can't complain. Please, join me inside for a cup of tea."

The man gestured the way and Joey returned to the car to keep watch within its warmth. The pair trudged side-by-side through the thick layer of fluffy powder, sharp breathing fogging the air in puffs of translucent cloud. The Joker was nearly a full two feet taller than the diminutive Hatter who skipped along beside him, taking two steps for each single one of his. The warehouse had been in the center of a lumber yard and used for cutting, priming, and packaging wooden boards for shipment about the various 'do it yourself' hardware stores in the Gotham area. Operations had been shut down many years ago after the company went bankrupt and much of the devastated forest had re-grown to blanket the metal building in its thick foliage. Even now, when the trees were bare of their spring coats, the large shop could not been seen from the quiet country road which passed along its East side.

The Joker had his cold fists firmly planted into his pockets, arms shrugging to bring his coat higher around his face as the frigid wind broke through the trees and cut at his skin. His friend, however, appeared to be unfazed by the bitter cold and observed the bare canopy as they walked.

"I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields that it kisses them so gently?" he began.

So he _did_ realize it was winter.

"And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt; and perhaps it says 'Go to sleep, darlings, till the summer comes again."

The Joker raised his eyebrow and glanced down at the galloping man as he spoke.

_'And they want __**me**__ in Arkham?'_, he couldn't help but think to himself.

The Hatter reached out with a bony hand and opened the door for his shivering friend who stepped inside and calmly brushed the flakes of already melting snow from his large wool coat. The inside of the warehouse was nicely warmed from the glow of a crackling fire in the middle of the floorless room. An assorted array of large oriental carpets had been carefully placed along the ground, covering the bare dirt beneath to form a thin layer of make-shift flooring. The thick aroma of incense filled the room and The Joker crinkled his nose slightly; he hated incense. A collection of furniture surrounded the fireplace, most of which looked like they had been pulled from a fortune teller's tent or perhaps from the living room of Dr. Seuss himself. And, of course, there was a small colorful pillow covered area with a small table resting in the middle like a flower's core between its vibrant peddles. The white lace tablecloth was littered with tiny cups, saucers, and other porcelain dishes fit for English tea with The White Queen, or whoever else decided to join.

"May I take your coat?" the small man asked with a gentle tug at The Joker's coat.

His guest removed the article with a grin, but decided to keep the dark cashmere scarf which hugged his neck. It wasn't exactly his style, but Harley had gotten it for him and she was right, as usual, it was very warm. The Hatter ventured back toward the small table and poured the pair a cup of steaming green-colored tea.

"One lump or two, my friend?" he enquired, sugar cubes at the ready.

"Four", The Joker responded with a smile.

"My my, quite the sweet tooth."

"You have no idea."

After loading the tiny cup with a pile of sugar sufficient to fill the entire rounded bottom of the porcelain, The hatter took a seat on the one of the larger chairs and The Joker joined him on the opposite side. The small man's oversized feet dangled and swayed in the air to an imaginary beat, unable to reach the floor where he sat.

"Now then", the small host began, blowing gently on his piping beverage, "What can I do for you? And where, might I ask, is your darling Miss Harley?"

"That's precisely why I'm here, Tetch. Harley's been taken from me."

The man gasped and nearly spilt his drink. Jervis Tetch had always adored Harley for her long blonde hair and small frame; reminiscent of a certain blonde whom lived with him, forever locked into the world of Lewis Carroll within his tortuous but brilliant mind. He had often absentmindedly referred to her as 'Alice' in their earlier meetings, but Harley was not one to protest.

"I do say!" he responded after a moment to gather himself, "Who would dare do such a terrible thing my dear boy?"

The Joker lifted his drink to his lips, speaking over the liquid before gulping down the sugary treat, "Flying vermin."

The Hatter's expression transformed immediately, casting away his childish and whimsical features to replace them with a dark malice that grew into a hate-filled, red-faced rage before his guest's eyes. The Clown smiled, he knew his friend would understand.

"Well then, my dear Prince, 'tis the Jabberwocky we must slay."


	3. Independent at Discharge

**Barbra Gordon/Oracle: Emma Stone**

Soft morning light permeated through the white curtains, bleeding gently onto Dick's eyelids. He parted them slightly, taking in the sound of running water coming from the master bathroom. Lifting his head from the pillow, he glanced over Barbra's empty side of the bed to check the clock; 7:03 am. It seemed cruel that the morning came so soon when he was with her. A nozzle squeaked and the rushing water was silenced, still dripping slightly and echoing against the tile walls. Dick threw back the covers and sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his eyes before standing to trudge groggily toward the bathroom. She had always been a morning person. He was definitely not. He gave a soft knock on the door and began pushing it open before there was an answer. Barbra hadn't heard him anyhow. She was seated in her shower wheelchair, tussling her red hair rapidly with a soft pink towel. Dick paused in the doorway to smile at her. He adored her unbreakable independence; nothing could hold Barbra Gordon down. She had always been that way, even before The Joker had paralyzed her with a single, well-placed bullet.

"_I can't walk, Dick, I'm not brain dead!"_, she had yelled at him a few years back.

Not a single moment had passed since the tragic event that she pitied herself, not like he did, and she was fed up. He still pitied her at times, how could he not? But he promised himself that he would never let it show to her again.

"Coffee?", he asked finally.

She jumped slightly and turned to look at him in her chair, "Shit! Don't sneak up on me like that!"

Dick laughed and pushed himself off the door frame to walk toward her and lean in for a kiss. She smelled like Lavender.

"Sure, I'll take some coffee", she answered as their lips parted, "I'm meeting Dad for lunch at his office today. Wanna come?"

She leaned down to unlock her wheel brakes before easily turning the chair and guiding it out of the modified, wheelchair accessible shower. Dick sat back and watched again as she headed toward the bedroom, grabbing her sliding board from the corner and tossing it on the bed.

"Nah, I promised Bruce I'd help him out with a project he's got going on at the mansion", he replied, following her into the room.

"That Bruce, always tinkering", she smiled, rummaging through her closet, "What kind of crazy contraption is he building this time."

Dick smirked, "Oh, it's plenty crazy. We'll just leave it at that for now."

Satisfied with her chosen attire, Barbra ventured back toward the bed, laying the clothes out gently within reach. She lined her wheelchair up at a slight angle to the mattress and grabbed the wooden sliding board in one hand. Leaning to the opposite side, she shoved the wooden plank underneath her bottom and lifted the arm rest. She positioned her bare feet and legs on the solid footplate of her wheelchair, and it one easy motion, transferred herself across the wooden bridge and onto the mattress. She was quite the pro these days. Dick could remember back years ago when a simple scoot was a frustrating, physically, and emotionally taxing endeavor. Now here she was, completely independent with everything. No assistance necessary.

That was Barbra, Miss Independence.

His gentlemanly nature had forced him to attempt at intervening when she appeared to be struggling or caught up, but she always slapped the air at him, insisting that she could do it on her own.

That's why he loved her.

"_It could be so much worse, Dick",_ she had reminded him plenty of times, "_I'm an incomplete T-level paraplegic. That's a blessing! You should have seen some of the people I was in inpatient rehab with. Some of them would never be able to do anything without help ever again. You need to stop feeling sorry for me or else we just aren't going to work."_

Barbra Gordon. What an incredible woman.

Dressing was a difficult task for him to watch, he wanted so much to aid her, but he knew it would earn him an angry glare and possibly a fist to the jaw. So, he stood aside, clenching his jaw and his fists to remain put while she tugged and heaved at the articles surrounding her limp lower extremities. It was too much. Walking to the side of the bed, he took up his clothes and quickly slipped them on, avoiding eye contact with his girlfriend.

"I'll catch you later, Gorgeous", he mentioned, tying his shoes, "Maybe I'll take you out for a nice dinner, jus the two of us."

Barbra flopped back onto the bed, panting hard as she zipped her pants, "Sounds good."

Dick stood from the edge of the bed and turned to face her with a smirk, "Hey now, keep making sounds like that and I may have to help you take those clothes off again."

He leaned down to kiss her but she shoved him away with a push of his chest, "Not now, Lover Boy, Dad's waiting."

Chuckling lightly, he stood upright and ran his fingers through his soft black hair. The strands fell perfectly into place, as if he had spent all morning styling and combing. Bruce ridiculed him often and called him, "Pretty boy."

He hated it.

But Barbra seemed to be fond of his boyish good looks, even if it had taken her a few years to finally give into his awkward teenage flirtations. As adults, the couple fit perfectly and Dick couldn't imagine life without her. He walked to the front door of her 22nd story apartment and grabbed his black wool coat, slinging it over his shoulders.

"See you later, Beautiful", he yelled back to her in the bedroom, pausing, "You sure you don't need my help getting-"

"GO!"

"Alright, alright! I'm going", he snickered, pulling the door open and exiting quickly with a light click of the knob.

"Bah bah ya tat a tow boom boom latata…", Harley was laying on her bare mattress, head dangling off the edge and feet beating the air to the rhythm of her arbitrary scatting.

The large metallic door on the opposite side of the empty room chimed and dinged as the locks were released and the barrier swung open noisily on its hinges. Harley didn't move. She had finally discontinued her onslaught of attacks after a week of unsuccessful ambush attacks when The Batman would enter the room, dressed in a full suit of hard armor. Her knuckles were still black and blue, and she had ripped the fingernail clean off her left ring finger in one of her more brutal assaults.

Bruce Wayne entered the door with a tray of food and carefully closed the door behind him. The locks resounded again through the door as someone unseen locked him inside with the untamed fem fatal.

"Breakfast?", he asked with a grin.

"Not if it's more eggs and fucking bacon. I'm on to you, Brucey, you're just trying to fatten me up so my Puddin' won't want me anymore, huh?", she smirked back at him, head turning red with the rush of blood.

Bruce laughed heartily and took a seat next to his blonde captive, "Porridge and hot tea?"

Harley sat up with a sigh, "Who does a girl gotta kill to get some fruit in the five star shit-tel? I've been a good girl, haven't I ?"

"Better."

"Woohoo!", the blonde shouted childishly, jumping to her feet and jumping on the springy mattress, "That means I'm all cured now, eh Brucey? Discharge for Harley!"

He shook his head, setting the tray onto the hardwood floor, "No, Harleen. We still have a long way to go."

She flopped down onto the bouncy fabric with a pout, "Party pooper."

"Here, just eat your food, then we can get started", he handed her the tray.

Harley took the brass colored server with a dark giggle, "You sound just like him sometimes, you know."

"Mhm? And how is that?"

Taking up the expensive silver spoon, she dripped a large amount of porridge off the edge, splashing it into the hot liquidy breakfast dish, "Just an observation."

"It's not the first time you've compared me to your boyfriend since you've been here, Harleen."

In a tantrum of sudden anger, she threw her spoon across the room where it slung slimy hot grains and dinged into the metal door, "Stop fucking calling me that!"

"It's your name", he argued calmly.

She shoved a thumb into her chest and squared off with him, nose to nose, "My-name-is-HAR-LEY!"

"If I'm so much like The Joker, Harley", he slowly exaggerated the pronunciation of her name, "then why does he want me dead?"

The crazed blonde threw her head back into a fit of wild laughter, slapping her thigh for effect.

"He doesn't want you dead, you damned fool!" She spread her arms and tilted her head back as her eyes closed into a large smile, "He wants you _enlightened_."

"Can you spare some change, man?"

The man was covered in tattered old clothing and tucked into the corner between a dumpster and an old condemned building as Dick passed on his way to the Gotham City Police Department. He had changed his mind halfway through his drive to Wayne Manor and decided to turn back to share a morning with his girlfriend and her father. After all, if he was planning to propose, he would need to ask for permission at some point, right?

Dick paused for a moment to check his pockets, he couldn't resist helping a fellow man in need, "Sorry, Guy, all I carry on me these days is a debit card. Typical Gothomer, eh? Real Sorry."

"Oh, that's alright", the man began to pull the hood back from his head. The short, evenly buzzed hair didn't set off an alarm in Dick's head, but the green tinge throughout was enough to set his every nerve on fire. "Suppose I couldn't expect any less from you kids these days."

The black eyes traced their way up Dick's legs and torso to meet with his face just as the jagged red cheeks spread into a fearsome smile. He stepped out into a fighting stance, ready to react, but the spine spitting pain from the rear of his head brought him crashing to his knees with a nauseating sting. The last thing he saw before darkness took him were the shiny black shoes of a shrieking clown, cackling loudly with insane laughter.


	4. Sweet Dreams

A large hand crept around Harley's waist in the dark. Her eyes remained closed, but the sensation pulled her out of dreams and she became aware of the fingers sliding downward, tucking between her thighs. She lay on her left side, still resting peacefully though her heart beat was now increasing its cadence in her chest. The fingers curled and dug into her right inner thigh, dangerously close to her more sensitive areas. In a single harsh motion, her leg was pulled forcefully and she was suddenly on her back. Long curly tendrils of hair tickled her neck as lips roamed hungrily over her skin, teeth nipping and pulling intermittently.

Her kidnapping, it had all been a terrible dream. Thank god for that.

The hand left her leg and traveled upward, the fingertips sliding under the boarder of her cotton boyshorts. She moaned with a sleepy grin and reached up to tangle her fingers into the long strands of wild hair. His head lifted and he closed his lips onto hers, pushing his tongue into her mouth just as two of his fingers push past the fabric barrier and sunk deep inside of her.

A cry of pleasure escaped Harley's lips and she rocked her hips forward with the rhythm of his hand moving between them, "Oh god, Puddin'." Her breathing was heavy and the brush of warm air on her face indicated that he was enjoying himself as well. His lips took hers again for a moment and she continued to moan between deep kisses. The trace of nips and kisses followed a delicate trail down her neck, between her breasts, over her heaving abdomen, and over the top of her panties where they stopped momentarily. His fingers retreated from her and she whined in discontentment, but her frustration was short lived as she felt the fabric being tugged down from around her waist. Large hands pushed her thighs aside as the kissing continued down the edge of her pelvis, and she gripped the sheets tightly in anticipation. Harley threw her head back and her mouth drew open as the absence of his fingers was replaced with a long thick tongue.

"Oh fuck!", she yelled into the dark room.

The tongue pumped expertly inside of her before pulling back to travel up to the area just above, aching for attention. The two fingers found their way back into place, continuing their former rhythm as the tongue drew circles around every inch of hot flesh it could find. Harley reached down with both hands and gripped onto his long hair, hips rocking uncontrollably. Her cries of rapture increased in volume with each thrust of his hand, and he was now concentrating intently on one important place with his tongue. The blood was pooling in her core and she felt dizzy as the electricity coursed through her, ready to explode in a moment of ecstasy. He continued to work, pushing her further toward the edge until she could hold back no longer. The moment was now and her body shuttered through her loud cries, but something else was shaking her.

A pair of strong hands were wrapped around her shoulders. Shaking her.

Shaking her…awake.

Harley's eyes shot open and she could feel the ebb of her climax beating slowly away, even now. It had been very real, but the actions which had caused it, she now realized, had not. Her arm pushed up into his chest and she shoved him away angrily.

"Get the fuck off me, Bruce!"

"You were having a nightmare."

She sat up, chest heaving, and brushed the sweat from her forehead, "That was no nightmare."

Bruce sat back onto the mattress next to her, "Your files show a history of night terrors, Harley. I was only trying to help. We could hear you screaming down the hall."

She glared over at him, "Nosey mother fucker, aren't you? What else can you tell me about myself, Doc?"

He hesitated, but decided to continue, "That they are always about the same person…"

She looked at him with warning in her dark stare.

"…You're father."

A clawed hand shot toward him, but he caught it just before the nails scratched across his face.

"Fuck you!" she screamed, struggling under his tight grip, "Fuck you! You don't know anything about anything!"

"I know I can help you if you just let me!"

"You can't help shit! You can't even help yourself, you stupid fuck!"

Unbeknownst to the furious Harley now thrashing wildly in his direction, Bruce had finally hit the sore spot he had been searching for. He had finally found her weak point.

It was difficult to disguise the grin of triumph within his stern expression.

Someone was screaming. A man. Somewhere close. Very close. It was almost as if…

Dick's eyes shot open and his body convulsed, back arching painfully as the electrical surges coursed through his every nerve fiber with an agonizing vibration. His mouth was fixed open and the uncontrollable wails of pain caused his chest and lungs to ache. Finally the sensation ceased.

"Woo hoo hoo!" another voice nearby exclaimed. This time he was certain it was not his. "Hey Tetch! What is this thing, a cattle prod?"

A small blonde man in an oversized top hat appeared at The Joker's side and snatched the long wand from his hand, "I do wish you would resist the temptation to tinker, Dear Prince", he scolded.

Dick returned his attention to the manically grinning face of the dark clown standing over him. His hair had been shaved down into a close buzz cut, surprisingly altering his usual long-haired image.

"You", Dick groaned, limbs throbbing, "You bastard, where am I?"

The Joker grabbed onto Dick's nose with a tight grip between his thumb and index finger, "I'll ask the questions around here, Sonny Jim. Number one: wheeeeeeere's Harley?"

He shook the sidekick's head forcefully side to side, and the tone of his question was strangely reminiscent to Jack Nicholson's character in 'The Shining'. Dick grinned and did his best to maintain eye contact with the greasepaint mask as his vision blurred with the movement of his head.

"You catch lice, Joker, or just having a mid-life crisis?"

The movement halted and Dick worked hard to control the continued movement of his eyes.

The Joker pointed toward his head, "This? This is all your fault", he accused, shoving a finger into Dick's chest. "Shame, too. Harley use to love tuggin' on my hair while I fucked her."

"Language, please", the voice of the tiny hatter chimed from the back of the room. He was clanking through metals and other unseen materials in preparation for what looked like some sort of experiment involving two seats with long leg rests.

"Apparently", The Joker began again, "Doc Brown back there informs me that mind control doesn't work well if you have long beautiful locks like I use to. Sounds like bullshit to me, but", he finished the sentence with a casual shrug. "So, say 'bye bye' to this full head of luscious growth, Pretty Boy!" His hand tussled the hair roughly and Dick scowled up at him.

"Nearly ready, my dear friend" The Hatter called, "Would you like to do the honors of shaving the gentleman's hair for me?"

The scars beneath the red clown lips widened a hundred fold, and The Joker winked at his victim, "It would be my pleasure."


	5. Decoy

"Hey", a voice whispered in the dark, "Hey, Harls."

A finger was poking at Harleen's shoulder where she lay. Her eyes opened slightly, still crossed dizzily in her hazy sedated state. A gentle beam of light peaked in through the open door about 10 feet from her bed and the silhouette of a woman was kneeling close to her face. Stirring with a grumble, Harleen lifted her trunk up onto her elbow and squinted sleepily, "Harley? What's going on?"

"Shhh", the woman cooed, gently stroking Harleen's pillow-patterned cheek, "Keep your voice down, okay? Listen, Sweetie, I need your help."

Harleen rubbed a groggy blue eye with her free hand, "My help? What's wrong?"

Harley was a strong, sophisticated dignitary. She had been in charge for nearly a decade alone. What could she possibly want from Harleen?

"He's getting to me, Harls, I can't take it much longer and I don't want _her_ getting out again", the blonde matriarch answered in quiet urgency.

Harleen sat up in the comfortably welcoming bed, fighting the strong desire to return to her deep slumber. Her eyes scanned the stark blackness surrounding the only ray of light in the room, "Where is she?"

"I don't know, but if she gets out again we're both fucked. Bruce Wayne has us locked up nice and tight in his mansion, and he's on to us. He's breaking me, Harls."

Harleen's heart beat faster at the sound of his name. She had both feared and desired the dark vigilante for many years. It was a complicated love-hate emotion.

"Where's Joker? Can't he help us?", she asked quietly.

Harley grinned. Harleen had also grown attached to the Clown Prince in their many years in his company. The only one who continued to give them grief in their relationship was that fucking useless Doctor. She wouldn't stop until they were all dead. And she was strong, so much stronger than Harley had ever anticipated. With Bruce hammering on her psyche day in and day out, it was only a matter of time before the woman emerged from her hiding place and Harley knew she didn't have the strength to keep them both at bay.

"He can't find us, Baby Girl, we'll have to get out on our own", Harley replied.

The young twenty-something blonde, age frozen in time, responded with a look of surprise, "Wha…what do you want _me_ to do?"

"Distract him. Keep him busy while I look for her and make sure she doesn't get out."

Harleen blushed and lowered her face.

"Just make him feel like he's making a difference. Like he's getting through to you or some stupid shit like that."

"I don't know, Harley-"

"-You _have_ to do this for me, Kid. For us. The bastard snooped in our file, and he knows about your father."

Harleen felt her skin crawl over her bones. She wanted to hide in the covers and die.

"He's going to try to force you to talk about him and all the terrible things he did to us. It makes cracks, Harls, cracks she can easily slip through. I can't stop her if I'm fighting him at the same time. You _have_ to do this", Harley's voice was pleading, frightened.

Harleen had never known Harley to be afraid of anything. Perhaps the situation had become worse than she had imagined. The fear in the dark room was suddenly palpable, and the young blonde knew nothing else she could do than nod in silent agreement.

Bruce was seated on the mattress next to the crumpled and weeping Harley in her home-made jail cell. She had violently avoided his questioning all morning, finally resigning to curl into the fetal position at the foot of the bed and cry beneath the covers. The topic of her abusive father was a difficult one for her, but he could feel the resistance breaking. If the woman within could only come to terms with what had happened to her, realize that she no longer needed the protection of Harley and Dr. Quinzel, then Harleen could live again as a free woman. He could help her, save her, he knew it.

"Harley", he coaxed, reaching out a hand to pat her on the shoulder. He had expected her to brush him off with a forceful claw of sharp nails, but to his great surprise, the woman's small hand slowly crept from beneath the covers to rest atop his. She squeezed his fingers with a desperate grip, and he returned the action with a sympathetic brush of his thumb over her whitening knuckles.

The other hand tugged gently at the sheets and a pair of crystal blue eyes were slowly revealed from beneath. The change in the moist eyes was subtle, yet uncanny.

Bruce leaned forward with a peak of interest, "Harleen?"

A small grin appeared on her frightened features and she released his hand to place her arm around his neck, tugging him forward. Her lips connected with his for a moment before he pulled back away from her, sitting back in shock. She appeared nervous and shaken, but her actions were sure and confident. Sitting up next to him, she brushed the covers off her legs and climbed quickly over his legs to straddle his lap. Her arms reached again for his face, but he caught her by the wrists and held her back.

"Harleen, what are you doing?", he asked.

She was breathing hard, "You…you saved me, Bruce. I…I love you, I…I want you. Make love to me."

Her words came in a shuddered, nervous, whisper, breath beating softly against his face. She pressed her body against his again and began kissing his neck, arms still held above her head in Bruce's strong grip.

"Harleen, please", he said, "This isn't necessary."

Her kisses became more frantic as she covered every inch of skin on his neck, "Make love to me, Bruce. I want you. I want you inside of me, please."

In a moment of weakness, he closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensation of her affection. Willing all the self control he could, Bruce shifted his weight and threw Harleen back onto the bed, pinning her arms to the mattress so she could no longer reach him with her perfect lips, "Harleen, stop! You don't need to do this!"

The lust in her actions was not matched by the expression in her eyes. She was afraid, uncertain, lost, and he could see it, "I just…I want you, Bruce. Harley, she's been keeping me locked away from you, but I've…I've loved you for so long. You saved me. I want to…I want to thank you."

"You don't have to thank me with sex, Harleen."

"But what if I want to?", she whispered, reaching her lips up toward his again.

He pulled away, fighting the rapidly growing urge deep in his gut to tear her clothes off and take her. A part of him had always been attracted to her fair beauty. What man wouldn't be? She was gorgeous.

"Harleen wait, wait! Just calm down for a minute."

She ceased her struggling and lay panting beneath him.

"Harley's gone?" he asked. She nodded with a small grin, "You're sure? And what about Dr. Quinzel?"

"It's just me now, my love. You rescued me, and now we can be together."

Her words sounded almost robotic, as though they had been rehearsed. Harleen had never shown this kind of attraction to him, something just didn't feel right.

"What about The Joker, Harleen? Weren't you happy with him?"

Her face fell into a solemn expression, though she tried desperately to conceal it, "He…he was Harley's lover, not mine. I love _you_, Bruce. I've always loved you. Please, make love to me."

He shook his head, "I can't, Harleen. It wouldn't be right."

Her pelvis bucked against his and he was only just realizing that he was still situated between her thighs. She grinned up at him deviously and winked, "Feels to me like you could, Mr. Wayne."

Slightly embarrassed, he sat back onto his knees and released her but she followed his motions quickly. Her arms reached up around his shoulders and she pulled him into her yet again, pressing her lips to his. He grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed back, but she continued to struggle in his grip.

"You can't hide from me, Bruce", she whispered up at him, "I know you want me. I'm trying to give you what you want, what we both want."

He thought at first it might be best to leave the room, allow her to cool down for a few hours. But the possibility that Harley might resurface in his absence kept him nailed to the spot. Then again, if Harleen truly was "cured" and left alone in her psyche after so many years of sharing the space with two other women, perhaps the fear of solitude was forcing her to attach herself to the nearest human being. Either way, he knew he would need to stay and attend to the issue at hand. He couldn't just leave her like this, yet he cursed his body for the reaction it was having to her closeness.

"Harleen, just have a seat, come on sit down", he pushed her as gently as he could given the amount of force it required to subdue her frantic lust. She sat back but continued to cling to his arms, pulling him back down with a dark smile, "No, Harleen, stop please!"

She finally released him, but her eyes remained locked onto him as her hand glided toward the buttons on her shirt. Bruce had given her a set of his old clothes to wear and she had taken to sleeping in his button up shirts and athletic shorts. Her nimble fingers made quick work of the first four buttons as she smiled seductively up into his eyes. Bruce realized suddenly that he had been staring hungrily at Harleen's gradually exposed body, and jumped on the spot to stand to his feet and back up a few steps. She whimpered and sat up on her elbows, beckoning him with her enticing gaze.

"That's enough", he insisted.

But she continued her torture, sitting up on her knees to finish unbuttoning the oversized shirt and slide it gently down both shoulders. There she sat, nude from the waist up and starting for the elastic band of her athletic shorts.

He averted his eyes and attempted to reason with her, "Harleen, please don't do this. I want to help you, anything else just wouldn't be appropriate."

He heard her sigh with new-found frustration and saw her sit back onto the bed in his peripheral vision, "You sound just like Dr. Quinzel", she mentioned in disgust. Rising to her feet, she sauntered slowly over to her captor and ran a small hand gently over his chest, sending shivers down his spine. "But even the Good Doctor eventually gave in to heated desire in the end."

She leaned in to kiss his neck and he caught her again by the wrists, keeping her at arm's length away from him, "Was it The Doctor or was it Harley who gave in to The Joker…Harleen?"

"Does it matter?" she smirked, opening her arms so she could press her bare skin against his chest, "Oh, Bruce, you're such a nice guy", she giggled and licked at his chin, "Nice guys like you shouldn't have bad days. Let's make tonight a good one." Her voice dropped into a low whisper, "Take me back to your bed, Bruce. Make love to me all night. I'm yours."

Her tone and demeanor were much less nerve stricken now. Her pleads seemed more genuine, and her excitement was contagious. As much as he hated to admit it, he was unbelievably attracted to this wild woman with her striking blue eyes and perfect body. Perhaps this had been the real reason for his desperate attempts to save her all along? Had The Dark Knight unintentionally fallen for Harley Quinn? What would The Joker do? It may have been the overwhelming urge to kiss her in that moment, but it occurred to Bruce suddenly that separating The Clown Princess from her Prince might be the very key to his demise. Death by broken heart. He might surrender to Arkham and live out the rest of his days in solemn solitude, having lost the love of his life to the one man he hated most.

_'I must be insane'_, Bruce mused to himself.

Releasing Harleen's wrists, he quickly brought one arm around the small of her back, the other around the back of her head, and pulled her into a forceful kiss. She moaned in her enjoyment and sparks flew over his skin at the sound of her voice. Their tongues met in a rapid entanglement of desire and he could feel her hands roaming up his shirt to lift it over his head. He broke from her lips only momentarily to allow the fabric to be removed, and crashed his body back against hers. She was warm and soft, the muscles beneath her pale skin worked against his hands as he caressed her, and everything settled into one single emotion. Something foreign and vulgar. Something that slightly embarrassed his good moral dignity. He wanted everything she had begged of him; he wanted her, to be inside of her, make love to her, fuck her.

The pair danced around one another, lips roaming over exposed flesh, stumbling clumsily into a heap on the floor mattress. Bruce's mouth latched itself tightly onto Harleen's breast and she arched her spine with a cry of rapture. His lips and tongue worked savagely while his hands roamed down her torso to hook into the band of her shorts, pulling them down to her knees. Her fingers were tangled into his hair, tugging painfully as she writhed and moaned beneath him. He raised his head to momentarily stare into her eyes, realizing that he had never before felt this kind of desire, this kind of passion. It was forbidden, condemning, and so very satisfying.

"Let's go to your room", she cooed, tugging at his bottom lip with her teeth.

He reached down with a smirk and finished removing the shorts, tossing them aside before tracing her inner thigh with the tip of his finger, "But you're already undressed."

"I'll wrap in the sheet", she retorted with a shrug.

He pressed his body weight against her and kissed the delicate space beneath her left ear while his fingers traveled dangerously closer to their target, "Why can't we just stay here?"

"Because I…oh, god!", her thought was cut off mid-sentence as his fingers finally slid into her. She pressed her head back into the mattress and he watched as her eyes rolled back into their sockets. His head dipped again to caress the side of her neck with his lips and tongue, deeply enjoying the silky warmth of her body.

"Mmnhm…oh my god, Puddin'", she moaned.

Bruce's head shot head shot up again to observe her features. They still belonged to Harleen, "What did you say?", he asked.

"I know what you're doing", she grinned, "but it's not going to work. I want us to go back to your room, damnit!" She shoved his hand away from her thighs and furrowed her brows at him, "Don't treat me like a ten dollar whore, Bruce."

_'What am I doing? This isn't right, I can't'_, he cursed himself silently as he stared into her beautiful face.

He rolled off of her and onto his back with a deep sigh, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to lift the intoxication of his passion. Soft hands and lips ran down his bare chest, causing his breath to hitch heavily.

"I just want to make love to you in the bed you sleep in, My Sweet", she breathed onto him, "The idea of our first time being on a dusty floor in a make-shift prison cell isn't exactly my idea of romance. You understand, right?"

Her sweet voice was hypnotic in its delicate tones and he felt hopelessly enslaved to her, "Yeah. Yeah, I do understand." Bruce rolled back over and took Harleen up into his muscular arms, completely entrapped in her sparkling eyes, "And I'm not trying to make you feel like a whore. I'm just…I'm just not real sure where all this came from all the sudden."

She reached up and stroked his cheek gently with the edge of her thumb, "I told you, I've always loved you."

"Not you, me", he sat up again, blinking hard and rubbing his eyes, "What is wrong with me?"

Harleen's arms slinked around his waist as she nibbled a soft reply into his ear, "There's a naked woman with her arms around you, that's what."

Her warm skin was pressed against his back and the seductiveness of her tone was driving him mad. He had to get out and clear his thoughts. Approach the situation again once he had a moment to consider all the implications, perhaps while taking a cold shower. Standing quickly, he scooped his shirt up from the floor and pulled it over his head before heading quickly toward the door.

"Bruce?", he could hear the naked blonde call after him, "Bruce, where are you going? BRUCE!"

The large door was closed and locked tightly behind him after he exited, and he turned to rest his head back onto the cool metal with a long exhale of air.

"Masta' Wayne, Suh?"

Bruce jumped on the spot, eyes shooting open to find Alfred watching him inquisitively from down the hall.

"Yuh-Yeah! Yeah, what?", he responded nervously.

"Masta' Grayson is here to see you, Suh. He's waiting in the foyer." The butler was eyeing him with suspicion.

"Alright, yeah I'll uh, I'll be right there."

Alfred turned slowly on his heels, eyeing Bruce with a turn of his head until he disappeared behind the door frame. The befuddled billionaire rubbed a hand across his forehead in a final attempt to gather his senses before greeting Dick. He released another sigh and started for the foyer. Turning the corner, he could see his young friend pacing slowly though the foyer, hands in his pockets. There was something different about the way he carried himself. It was familiar, yet he couldn't put his finger on it. Dick's head was tilted back, observing the room as though he had never set foot in the place before. His dark strands were covered with a thick, warm-looking beanie, but as Bruce approached, he could easily see that the hair beneath had been shaved down into a close buzz cut.

"Hey there, Kid, what's with the hair?", he greeted him, "I thought you were proud of your Pretty Boy locks?"

Dick turned around with a broad smile, stretched wide with almost exaggerated amusement, "Had a change of mind."

A dark chuckle sang from within his throat and he brushed against Bruce's shoulder rather aggressively as he passed by him, headed for the hallway to Harleen's jail cell. "So, how are things going with your newest project? Get inside her yet?"

Bruce's eyes widened slightly, "Uh, what?"

Dick tapped his temple with a sly grin. He was behaving very strangely.

"Oh! Uh, yeah I uh, I think we made a break through today", the Knight replied before clearing his throat nervously.

"Oh?", his young friend clasped his hands behind him in interest, "How so?"

Bruce rubbed the back of his neck, "Well, uh, according to Harleen, Harley and Dr. Quinzel are…well, gone."

The smile on Dick's face faded instantly and a darkness fogged his eyes, "Come again?"

"Well, there's no real proof yet. I'll still have to speak with her some more to be certain, push her buttons, try to provoke a resurfacing if I can…"

'Pushing her buttons' reminded him of the intimate moment he and Harleen had shared only minutes later, and he had to shake his head to refuse the erotic thoughts bleeding into his mind's eye. The tension was terrible.

Dick took long strides toward Bruce with fury in his expression and reached out a hand, gathering a fist full of his shirt and pulling him in nose to nose. For a moment, he though the kid would head-butt him, then the scowl melted into another sickeningly wide smile, "Well, congratu-fucking-lations, Doc! HA-HA! You'll have ta tell me your secret someday!" He released him with a slap on the shoulder and spun around to walk again toward Harleen's chamber.

"Hey, uh, where you headed, Dick?", Bruce asked, fixing his shirt.

"I wanna take a gander at the new woman!"

His pounding heart caught in his throat, Harleen might still be naked. "Whoa, hey! Wait! She, uh, she's been a little overexcited lately. I think we should just let her rest for a while."

Dick halted on the spot with a screech of his soles and a frustrated-sounding sigh. He remained there for a few moments, clenching his fists before responding in a low menacing octave, "Yeah, I suppose you're right." He turned slowly again, and showed his new toothy grin, "I've waited this long to see her. I suppose I can wait a few hours more. What about you, Bruce? You busy?"


	6. RIP

I'd just like to say thank you for your continued support, and sorry for taking so long between recent chapters! Planning a WEDDING! :)

* * *

"Stop it, Harley! Harley, Please!", Harleen was screaming in sheer terror as she fled through the darkened tunnels of psyche she shared with her intellectual counterparts.

Or…counter_part_.

Harley stomped after her, a hate-filled and maniacal scowl plastered upon her blood-stained face. Her arms and neck were painted in crimson and a distinct hand print from her previously struggling victim could be made out upon her cheek.

"You filthy, spoiled, tasteless little slut!" Harley was screaming into the piercing darkness. "I said to keep The Bat at bay! Where in that instruction did I ever tell you to part your legs, you disgusting whore?"

Harleen collided with a solid dark structure and made a desperate attempt to slink around its corner as her frightened voice echoed back, "Nothing happened, Harley! I swear!"

"After all I've done for you, after all I've sacrificed, after all _Joker_ has done for you, you would _betray_ him!"

"Please, Harley, I'm sorry! I'm sorry!", the young blonde sobbed, finding herself trapped between walls of shadow as her captor closed in on her. Her small body pressed against the wall behind her and she slunk to the floor, shaking with breathless emotion and a flurry of falling tears.

Harley closed the gap between them and reached out with a bloody hand, tangling her fingers into the young woman's hair and yanking her to her feet. Harleen yelped in pain and held onto Harley's hand as she was slammed into the wall.

"Tell me what I should do with you, Harleen", the dark Clown Princess growled into her face, "I swore to protect you, but don't think for an instant that you won't end up..JUST LIKE THAT LITTLE CUNT OVER THERE!"

Saliva flew from her mouth as she bellowed, pointing to the heap of bloody limbs on the floor about twenty feet away from them. Dr. Quinzel's lifeless body lay in a red pool, a haze covering her blue eyes which stared blankly in their direction. The large gash in her throat had been exaggerated by Harley's hand sinking deep into the wound to manually crush what was left of the trachea. Her mouth lay agape and widened at the corners where the Glasgow smile had been skillfully sliced into her pale skin.

Harleen wailed in panic and gripped tighter at the madwoman's hand, "No no no, please! Please don't hurt me, Harley! I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry!"

Harley may have been a hardened killer, but her blood did not run completely cold. Harleen had been her creator, after all. Her tight hold loosened in the woman's hair, but her features remained stern and unforgiving. She pulled Harleen's face as close to her as she could and lowered her voice an octave as she spoke, "Consider that the last time you will _ever _interact with the outside world again, got it?" Harleen's eyes widened as she continued, "You will stay in this room, and I don't ever want to hear another word from you. If you surface for even so much as a second, I will find you, and I will kill you. This body is mine, this life is mine, and you are nothing more than a ghost of the past."

With a thrust of her hand, she threw the woman to the floor and turned on her booted heels to exit through the only open door in the room. Harleen watched, panting on the spot in relief as the silhouette paused in the lightened doorway, grabbing the handle and addressing her one final time before disappearing forever, "Rest in peace, Harleen Quinzel."

The door slammed, echoing into the stark blackness of her endless prison.

Harley parted her eyes, taking in the familiar scene around her where she had left the naïve and inexperienced Harleen to do a woman's job. In a way, she blamed herself and thought perhaps she had overreacted to her behavior. On the other hand, it was an incredible release to be free of…

…someone had died. Who was it?

She sat up on the rumpled sheets strewn across the mattress and gasped at the sudden realization of her completely exposed state. All at once she was cursing Harleen and no longer held regrets for her actions. The very thought of Bruce Wayne plundering her naked body with his disgusting manhood had her gut turning over, throwing bile into her throat. Looking frantically around the room, she spotted the clothing she had worn before and pulled the articles quickly over herself with a grumble. She scratched her scalp in thought as she sat on the bed, a strange feeling of displacement fogging her mind. It was as though she had forgotten something important, like The Reaper had reached into her and stolen a piece of her very soul, yet she could not place it. Harley always felt befuddled when resurfacing from the darkness, however, and she attributed this sudden malfunction to the events which had recently transpired. Rising to her feet, she could see the sun setting over the horizon of her forest-lined view. The hope that her darling husband would ever find her was beginning to fade, and she knew she would need to find a way out soon.

The metallic door behind her sang its clicking and sliding song as the locks were undone. Harley glowered and maintained focus on the salmon-colored horizon, wrapping her hands around the bars over the window which separated her from freedom. The door closed slowly and the sound of heavy footsteps drew closer to her. The mattress dipped and creaked in protest as the large feet crept over the springs toward her, stopping just behind at her back where she could actually feel the heat coming from his body. Ignoring him, she gripped the bars tighter and took another step closer to them, pressing her face between them. A pair of arms wrapped slowly around her waist and her spine straightened at the unwelcomed sensation of lips on her neck.

"You smell amazing", came the voice behind her, but it didn't belong to Bruce.

Harley shot her elbow behind her quickly and made harsh contact with his ribs, causing him to recoil his embrace and chuckle childishly.

"Hands off, Bat Boy, I'm a married woman!", she growled in warning.

He straightened back out and placed his arms around her, gripping her hands over the bars and burying his nose into her hair, "So feisty, Princess. Mmnm…reminds me how I've missed fucking you."

Her eyes widened and she twirled around, facing Dick Grayson nose to nose. She could have sworn his comment came straight from the mouth of her beloved Joker, but the boy who stared back at her was none other than the equally loathed vigilante sidekick of The Bat.

"You must have me confused with your invalid girlfriend, Bitch Boy. I wouldn't touch you with a high powered cattle prod", she sneered.

His smile widened at her remark and a teasing laugh escaped his throat, "Atta girl, Harley Baby."

Dick leaned in to kiss her and she retaliated with a quick knee to the crotch, sending him to his knees with a grimace. Seizing the opportunity for escape Harley made a dash for the door, flinging the heavy metal aside with a clang.

She heard the injured sidekick call after her with a hoarse cracking in his voice, "Harley, wait!"

Her bare feet smacked the wooden floors as she sprinted down the hallway, unsure how to navigate the heavy labyrinth before her, but fully intent on escape. Rounding the corner with a skid, she took a second to observe the scene before striking down another hallway. The sound of heavy footsteps began falling behind her and she turned to her head to find Dick chasing after her with fury in his eyes. She increased her pace and nearly hit the wall as she turned down another pathway. The halls were lined with an array of useless artifacts from times past; paintings, sculptures, armor. A table covered in fine ancient tapestry sat along the wall to the left, and taking notice of the dead end ahead of her, Harley decided to utilize the space in an attempt to hide. Her small frame fit perfectly between the wooden beams, and she squatted quietly beneath the fabric, hoping he would pass her by to investigate one of the rooms. She held her breath has she heard his footsteps approach her area of the hallway, slowing to a saunter as he traveled closer.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are", his voice taunted her playfully. "Harley listen to me, Sugar, I know this is gonna sound farfetched, but you gotta believe me." Passing her up, she could tell he was speaking generally into the area, hoping she could hear him. "It's me, Baby", he explained, opening a door to one of the rooms to peek inside, "it's Joker…."

Harley rolled her eyes, 'Nice try, asshole', she thought silently. Stepping across the hall, he opened another door, "Promise, Princess, just let me prove it to ya."

She remained perfectly still on her spot, unconvinced of his pleads.

"I mean, only I call you 'Princess', right?"

It was too easy, everyone knew her as The Clown Princess of Crime.

"My sweet little Harlequin Princess with sapphire eyes, come on baby!"

She watched as the feet turned around to face her, pausing momentarily before taking a few slow calculated steps toward her table, "Then again…", he continued in a seductive tone, "You could always let me fuck you, that outta prove it hands down, I should think. No man could ever make you scream like Mr. J."

A dark laugh met the sound of tapestry and glass being ripped from the top of the table, and suddenly his face was peering upside down at her beneath the table, "Tag! You're it!"

Her small fist shot out toward his face, but he caught her roughly by the wrist and dragged her kicking and thrashing from the hiding spot, "Get your hands off me!"

A pair of lips met with hers and she pushed back furiously on his chest, breaking away from him, "FUCK OFF!"

"Goddamnit, Harley, you're startin' ta piss me off now, hold still!", he warned, gripping her closer to him.

Pulling one hand free, she swatted at his beanie-covered head with a well placed fist to his temple and he released her. Her body tumbled to the floor and she scurried to escape him. As she planted her feet into the ground, she noticed his body lying rigid on the wood floor in her peripheral vision. His limbs began to quake, catching her full attention, and she looked at him as his eyes began rolling in their sockets. A beeping sound came from his pocket and a voice shouted over the static of a walkie-talkie.

"Joker! Are you alright? I've lost contact on my screen, you must re-establish the coil immediately! Joker? JOKER?"

Harley closed her hands over her mouth in horror before diving toward the convulsing body. Pulling the device from his pocket, she pressed the button, "Hatter? What's going on?"

"Miss Quinn, he's found you! I'm delighted!"

"What's…what's wrong with him? Oh god, what's happening to him?"

"Miss Quinn, you must re-establish the connection of the loose coil to its mate on our dear Prince's cranium! If the connection is lost for too long, the consequences could be dire!"

Harley's breathing was shallow and loud, and she could feel the heat of panic rising from her gut. Reaching up gently she pulled the beanie from Dick's head, exposing the buzz cut and four closely shaved circular areas where she could follow pins and wires to a central location atop his head. One of the wires had come undone and dangled by his face.

"I don't…I don't know how to do this!", she shouted into the walkie-talkie.

"Simply reattach the loose wire, my Dear, and all is well. You will notice it is very similar to the leads of an EKG."

"I don't know what that means!"

"Use your skills as a doctor, Miss Quinn! Your husband is dying!"

Doctor? She wasn't a doctor. She had never set foot in a hospital in her life, "I don't know what you're talking about!"

"WE'RE LOSING HIM, HARLEY!"

In a final act of desperation, she dropped the communication device and quickly analyzed the two pieces, observing how they fit together. Pinching the prongs on the loose wire, she clipped the piece snuggly onto the metal button located on the bare area of Dick's scalp. His limbs immediately began to slow their erratic rhythm, and soon he was lying very still, cradled in her arms.


	7. Dancing with the Devil

The Joker groaned.

Agony.

Damn it all to hell, his head was killing him! He made a half-hearted attempt to rub at his temples with his fingertips, but his arms were much too heavy to lift.

No. Not heavy.

Strapped. His arm were strapped to the bed!

"The fuck?", he muttered. It would have been an angry shout of protest had he the energy, but as it was, it was all he could do just to open his eyes.

The room spun in a blurry haze, making him sick to his stomach.

"Ohmahgod!", an unfamiliar female voice was approaching him, "Tetchie! He's wakin' up!"

The shrill octave shredded his every thought, leaving behind an awful ringing in his ears. He groaned again and swatted sound, his arm catching with the restraints. A small hand engulfed his and rubbed the back of it with a soothing thumb. Moist contacts were made all over his face, shaking him with each press of lips until he was screaming, "Goddamnit! Back the fuck off! That shit hurts!"

"Oh, Mistah Jay! I'm so happy you're alright! You're Harley's been worried about'cha."

The Joker stopped moving abruptly, parting an eyelid toward the sound of the woman's voice. A blurry blonde came to focus in his vision, but the voice didn't match the image he was seeing. What the hell was going on?

"Harley?", he inquired hoarsely.

"Yeah, Puddin'?"

Her voice was unrecognizable, high pitched, and was that…a _Brooklyn_ accent?

"The hell's wrong with you?"

She looked confused, "What'dya mean, Mistah Jay?"

"Ahem", a man cleared his voice from the doorway, demanding the pair's attention. "Harley, my dear", said The Hatter soothingly, "Could you please fetch me a hot water bottle for our recovering Prince?"

"Yeah, sure. I'll be right back, my love!" Harley kissed the Joker's aching head, eliciting another loud throb before she took off into a bouncing trot to the door.

Tetch approached the edge of the hospital bed to untie the leather straps over The Joker's wrists, "I do apologize for the restraints, my friend. They were necessary, however. You continued to pull at your IV and healing sites. I had to take measures, do forgive me."

Head pounding, The Joker sat up on the edge of the bed, "Yeah, sure. Don't worry about it. Shit, what's gotten into Harley?"

The small man sighed and took a seat in the chair near the bed, "Miss Quinn has suffered some psychological damage in her absence. I'm not for certain, but she appears to have some memory loss as well."

The Joker rubbed his head, "That son-of-a-bitch. I should'a finished his ass."

The Hatter nodded, "If the coma does not, we still have our chance. I would not concern yourself over him."

"Memory loss, huh? And the voice?"

"Indeed. She has no recollection of any of her medical training, nor the events leading up to your relationship. The…_charming_…accent has been emerging over the last couple of days, but she seems to be unaware of the change. Not to worry, I am running tests. We shall soon know the culprit."

"Shit."

Just then, Harley returned with a steaming, red, rubber bottle filled with hot water, a glass of cold water, and a thick towel. "What'd I miss?"

Her husband cringed at her vocals, accepting the items while he eyed her suspiciously.

"Harley", he began slowly.

"Yeah, Puddin'?"

The water glass was sweating onto his fingers and palm. He traced a smiley face onto the glass as he thought of what to say. "Ya know, Princess, I don't think we ever told ol' Tetch here how we first met. I think you tell the story better than I do, why don't you enlighten him?"

"Oh, Techie already knows that boring old story, don'cha?", she nudged him with an elbow and a wide grin.

"Just – do it, damnit. For me."

Her bottom lip threatened to pout at his tone, but she continued with a renewed smile, "We met at Arkham."

The Joker released a sigh of relief.

"His cell was right next to mine. 666 and 667, a match made in heaven!"

His relief was shattered, "What? Harley, baby, we've been in Arkham together, but that's not how we met. Don't you remember?" Her blue eyes blinked at him with confusion. "You…you were my doc. For six months." He nodded at her hopefully, praying she would suddenly catch on and continue the story for him, but she stared blankly back at him. "Sweetness, I snuck out of Arkham and we fucked that night for the first time at your apartment, after I broke in and nearly scared you to death! You don't remember that?"

She began to giggle, and for a moment he thought he had sparked a memory. "Oh, Mistah Jay! We don't fuck, we _make love_. And our first time was at the Opera House after your broke me outta Arkham. Don't _you_ remember? Ivy was with us and – "

His fist slammed the bed in frustration, making her jump with an uncharacteristic squeak. _His_ Harley would have crossed her arms in her chest and squared off angrily with his outburst, just how he secretly liked it. "No, goddamnit! _You_ broke _me_ out of Arkham! Yeah, the Plant was with us but – "

"Joker, Joker", Tetch interjected softly, "I think perhaps the two of you are tired. Miss Quinn has been watching over you day and night. She should get some rest, and so must you if you are to recover."

The frustrated Clown rubbed a calloused hand through his short, buzz cut hair, wincing at the tender areas on his scalp where metallic prongs has once been implanted. This whole situation was beginning to make him think he had died and gone to hell.

"Miss Quinn, why don't you go ahead and get some sleep. I'll attend to our dear Prince now", their short host coaxed.

Harley looked on the verge of tears. She nodded solemnly and leaned in to kiss her husband on the cheek before shuffling away into a dark hallway. Once she was out of earshot The Joker jumped from the table, surprised at the lack of structural support in his legs. He wobbled on the spot, clenching onto the hospital bed as his head began to spin.

"I don't get it, Tetch. What the hell could he have done to her that was any worse that the shit they forced on her in Arkham?", he placed a hand over his eyes, rubbing at the frustration behind his lids. His voice was low and quiet, barely a whisper, "Have I lost her?"

"I am working on a solution, friend. You should rest."

It took hours for The Joker to fall into sleep. He wracked his brain to better understand what could possibly have happened to his wife. Harley would have surely known the answer, she was good with all that psychobabble bull shit. Unfortunately, she was the one who needed the diagnosis, and as far as she was concerned, she had never treated a patient in her life. Sleep finally took him for a brief couple of hours, tormenting him in nightmares. When he woke, Harley, or at least what was left of her, was sitting at his side. She stroked his hand lovingly in hers, tears threatening her eyes. He stared at her for a long time, studying her secretly before he finally spoke to get her attention.

"Hey there, good lookin' ", he whispered.

Her blue eyes shot up to meet his. She was so lost, frightened, he could see it. Sniffling quietly, she grinned at him, "Hey."

"S'matter?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but the words were lost in thin air. Her shoulders shrugged with uncertainty, and she squeezed his hand tighter. He pulled her forward, out of her chair so she was standing next to him at the bed. His other hand grabbed her waist and coaxed her to join him. With a seductive smile, she lifted her short leg and crawled over him, straddling him on the bed and leaning down so they were nose to nose. He stroked her back softly, returning her smile.

"What happened to you in that place, Harls?", he asked after a few moments of silence.

Her smile faded. She really didn't know, did she?

"Somethin's wrong, Mistah Jay. I don't…I don't feel like myself", she answered in her new voice, "I feel like…like somethin's missin', ya know? Like…Idunno."

"Like what?"

"Like I died, but I didn't. Does that make sense? No, no it doesn't!"

The Joker's brows knitted for a second, "Harley, did The Bat put you through shocks? Like they did in Arkham?"

She shook her head, blonde hair swishing and tickling his face. God, she smelled so good. "No, he didn't do none of that stuff."

He sighed, thoughtful for another moment. "Well, is everyone accounted for?" She looked confused. That seemed to be her new state, he hoped it wouldn't last. "Well, there's you, sort of. What about Harleen and the Bit – I mean, the Doctor?"

Harley sat back onto his lap, squeezing his involuntary erection beneath her weight, though she didn't seem to notice. "I don't understand, Puddin'. Whatcha mean?" Panic was starting to spread though him. Something was really wrong. He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off, "What Doctor? It's always just been me and Harleen in here." She pointed at her temple and grinned, as though he were pulling her leg.

The pieces were starting to stick together now. She had no memory of ever being a doctor, of treating The Joker at Arkham, of medical science, because The Doctor…was _gone_. Really and truly, this time. Without that component of her psyche, Harley was missing the intellect to suppress what must have been her hometown accent. Lovely. Well, the accent he could get use to, he guessed, but one thing plagued him.

"Harley?"

"Yes'm?"

"What do you know about computer hacking?"

Confusion spread though her face again, and his heart sank. He loved his hack-happy, computer nerd of a wife. Without her, how long could he really put up with this bingy-bouncing, blonde bimbo before he shot her in the head out of sheer frustration? Part of him wanted to turn a gun on himself right now. He watched as a smile spread across his new Harley's face.

"What kinda question is that, Silly, you know I know everything there is ta know about hackin'!" She straightened her spine with confidence and crossed her arms in her chest, accentuating her cleavage. "You got a question about computers, security systems, or electronic data, I'm yer girl!"

The Joker closed his eyes with a chuckle. Thank god for that! Her dark demeanor and stern vocals were gone, but maybe he could get used to this new Harley. After all, she was still a fucking bombshell. With a wide grin, he grabbed onto her hips and ground his hardened shaft up against her. She squealed with a giggle and rocked her hips to meet his.

"Now, Puddin', Techie said you gotta get lot'sa rest if you're gonna recover a hundred percent. He left me in charge, ya know. Nurse Harley. So, it's my job ta make sure ya stay-in-bed." She climbed off of him as she spoke, backing away in to the nearest corner.

"I am staying in bed", he argued, rising to walk after her with a dark smile, "and so are you."

Harley squealed and kicked over The Joker's shoulder as he carried her through the dark hallway, searching for a proper bed. He turned knob after knob, finding nothing but messy laboratories until he finally came upon the guest room Harley must have been using to sleep in. Setting her gently on her feet beside the bed, he grabbed onto her face and crashed his lips into hers. She threw her arms over his shoulders and pulled him backward on top of her.

The panting pair hit the bed with a thud, causing the old wood to protest and creek beneath their radical movements. The Joker dug his hands into the mattress to hold as much of his body weight off of Harley as he could, though his hips seemed to take on a mind of their own. They bucked and grinded wildly against hers, and by the sounds she was making, she appeared to be enjoying it. Suffocating one another with deep passionate kisses, their hands roamed over skin and through tangled hair. It was as though they not only wanted one another, but needed one another, needed to imbed themselves deep into the very soul of the other person until nothing remained. Harley was moaning loudly and The Joker growled in approval as his lips finally left hers to travel down her jawline, onto her neck, and across her collarbones. His strength felt suddenly rejuvenated along with his virility, and tucking one strong arm beneath the small of her back, he lifted her easily off the bed. She now sat straddled across his hips as he rested back onto his haunches on the bed. His arm gently cradled her back while his hand held her head so she was free to relax comfortably into him. Intermittently, her hips would rock against his and he would reflect her motions with a rhythmic thrust, like an erotic dance. She could feel his arousal through their clothing, and her entire body ached in the necessity for him. She desired him more and more with each passing second.

His touch was sending her into convulsions, driving her mad, and he realized he actually adored her little moans and gasps. Only now did he take notice of her plain, black tanktop and black shorts. His eyes roamed hungrily over the hidden pebbles of nude flesh concealed just beyond the cotton barrier. He considered grabbing the fabric at the top and ripping it off of her, but considering she would have nothing else to wear until they returned home, he opted to delicately pull it up and over her slender frame with his free hand while he still held her cradled in his arms. She obliged his movements with a sensuous sigh that nearly pushed him to the breaking point of simply throwing her back down and fucking her senseless. Her pert breasts were now fully exposed to him, heaving with the movements of her heavy breathing. Starting at her neck, he ran his hand slowly down the soft skin between the perfect mounds, down the middle of her flat stomach, and ending at the elastic of her shorts. His fingers slid over the top and he gripped the fabric tight in his fist, desperately fighting the urge again to tear them from her body. Her pelvis rocked into him again, urging him on with a seductive moan. The temptation was unbearable, but he wanted to take his time in enjoying her. He had missed her so much. Harley, on the other hand, was on the verge of losing her mind. With an arch of her back, she ran her hands down her bosom and over the top of his hesitant hand.

"Mistah Jay…", she whimpered quietly, begging him with nothing more than an utterance of his name.

His muscles tightened at the sound of her voice and an uncontrollable wave of lust shot through him. There was a loud ripping sound and the shorts were off in an instant. He leaned forward and latched his lips firmly over one of her erect nipples, sucking savagely while his free hand stroked and squeezed the contours of her naked bottom. Harley cried out into the empty room, her voice reverberating through the walls of the building. Her fingers tried to tangle into the locks of his once long, thick, brown hair, scratching painfully at his scalp. Her naked body writhed in his arms and he felt his arousal increase in his excitement. The Joker broke his hold on Harley's tender flesh when he felt her hands travel between them to begin fumbling with his belt buckle. He sat back and allowed her to work her nimble fingers through the barriers of belt, button, and zipper, maintaining an unblinking stare into her blue eyes. He lowered her gently onto the bed to free his hands, connecting with her lips while he removed the slacks and boxers, kicking them off onto the floor. Once he was free of restrictions, his arms dipped around her back and waist once again lifting her over him as he returned to his kneeling position. Her fingers dug into the back of his neck and shoulder in anticipation and he began to lower her onto him at an agonizingly slow rate. He watched as Harley's eyelids began to dip, her head dropping back slowly at the sensation of him entering her, stretching her to the very limit. His mouth drew slightly open at her incredibly slick warmth and the tightness surrounding him. How could he have ever forgotten what it was like to be inside of her? Once she was seated completely over him, a moan escaped her throat and she allowed her head to fall backward as she arched her back. The Joker rolled his eyes in their sockets with a low grunt.

After a moment he lifted Harley slowly off his hips, then brought her back down at a slightly faster pace. She moaned again and picked her head up to kiss him. His arms lifted her again and again as her hips bucked to the rhythm he had created, her cries of rapture sinking into his senses like a drug. Their agape mouths hovered about one another's, exchanging heavy breaths between loud moaning. Harley raced towards her orgasm, eager to reach her first climax. As the pressure built in her core, she threw her head back again and called out his name into the dark room. With another rock of her hips, her pleasure spilled over into waves of rapture, causing her to cry out louder while The Joker smiled and enjoyed the sensation of her fluttering musculature squeezing him even tighter.

As her ecstacy ebbed slowly away, Harley's body relaxed into him. She kissed his neck while he continued to thrust into her, puppeting her hips easily over him as though she was weightless. Her tongue licked at his skin and she kissed the exposed soft tissue over his mutilated features, expecting him to reach his end at any moment. Although she had already reached her peak, the sensation of him remained incredible, and she continued to moan quietly into his ear. He leaned forward and threw her roughly onto the bed, burying his face and lips into her sweet neck as he continued to thrust deeper into her. She arched beneath him and ran her nails lightly along the skin on his back, lowering her hands to cup his bottom and feel his muscles move as he worked against her. She could feel her excitement beginning to build again at the sensation of him, though she was afraid he would finish before she could reach her peak again. His teeth dug into her shoulder, making her gasp, and she took the opportunity this new erotic sensation gave her to push towards her second orgasm. To her great surprise, it was even more intense than the first and her heart felt like it would leap from her chest as she cried to the ceiling yet again.

The Joker pulled out of her suddenly and she thought he must have finished along with her this time. But when he laid down next to her, rather than resting and panting in euphoria, he simply placed and hand upon her hip and pushed her onto her side facing away from him. He suddenly he slid back inside of her, causing her eyes to shoot open. A mewl was forced from her lips in her pleasant surprise, and he wrapped a strong arm around her waist, kissing her shoulder as he continued his previous rhythm. Her mouth fell open at the welcomed new sensation and she gripped the sheets with her nails. His hand slid down her abdomen and between her thighs, making her gasp at the destination claimed by his fingers. With incredible dexterity, he maintained his exquisite rhythm without skipping a beat while he played a separate tune on her with his nimble digits.

As much as he was enjoying the moment, the longer The Joker extended their pleasure, the more difficult it became for him to keep his own peak at bay. He hoped at very least he would be able to bring Harley over the edge with him one last time as he plunged into his own quickly approaching ecstasy. As her moans grew louder, her hips moved faster, and her muscles contracted harder, he felt himself finally tip uncontrollably over the edge with her. His head dropped back and his every muscle contracted while he growled loudly along with his deeply satisfied lover. Perhaps it had just been too long to remember or perhaps this was truly the best sex of his life. Either way, he was sure he would want to experience this moment again and again with this incredibly sexy woman, regardless of how she spoke. After all, she was still his. His Harley.

As his pleasure returned to baseline, his thrusting slowed its rhythm until he lay still behind her, panting heavily with his forehead resting upon the back of her head. Harley lay with her eyes closed, unable to move, covered in slick sweat and completely spent and satisfied with what had just transpired.

"Mmmm, Puddin', that was…", she manages to moan.

He remained inside of her as he pulled her closer, and rested his head to the pillow. "Damn good", he finished for her.

"Mmhmmm."

"Think I'll be able to get that rest Tetch has been telling me to get."

She giggled sweetly, something that was already beginning to grow on him. Time passed quietly as their breathing found a common rhythm in comfortable embrace. He felt her shift slightly, adjusting her head on the pillow.

"Puddin'?"

"Mm?"

"…did I die?", her voice was a timid whisper.

He took a moment before answering, nuzzling his nose into her long hair. "Yeah, Princess, you did."

A sadness took her in the knowledge that she would never be the same again. She didn't know how she was different, only that she had been forever changed, and the thought caused her to morn her former self. Whoever she was. A tear slid from her blue eye and she grinned as she felt The Joker's embrace tighten around her, comforted by his final words before they fell into a deep sleep:

"Then I sold my soul to bring you back. Welcome home, Baby."

* * *

I just want to say thanks again for all your support! Sorry it has taken me so long to finish this, and I hope the final chapter was well worth the wait! Things have become VERY busy in my life, so I think I will quit while I am ahead and call this my last JokerXHarley fic. Not to worry, though! I will be back from time to time with other fandoms. [I currently have a really bad itch to do a Mass Effect Shakarian story]. Hope you enjoyed Silent Knight, and that you check back in to read the other JokerXHarley stories sometime! Find me on Deviant Art to read some of my original works, collaborative stories, and art work! [link is on my profile].

Love you guys! MUAH!


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